


waking

by drugstoreperfume



Series: i'll stop writing smut for them when they stop fucking all the time [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Frottage, Hand & Finger Kink, Hand Jobs, Hotel Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 15:03:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11992209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drugstoreperfume/pseuds/drugstoreperfume
Summary: Neil can't sleep lately and in typical Neil fashion he refuses to call the person who helps with shit like that - Bee. Fortunately, there are other things that help people get to sleep.





	waking

**Author's Note:**

> all credit goes to nora for her wonderful characters who im certain i botched because they are SO HARD TO WRITE and yet SO WONDERFUL  
> this is unbeta'd and also written at 2:30am where i live so pls cut me some slack for mistakes ty ty i promise i can usually spell and use grammar  
> also everything i write is laced with my own fucking insufferable hand kink im gross anYWAY HOPE YOU ENJOY  
> [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A05049H8)

3am again.

Neil has gotten better at waking up silently. His chest heaves, but he doesn’t go hurtling forward, doesn’t reach for the light (or a gun), doesn’t make noise. His breath moves his chest, but he stays still. Beside him, Andrew hasn’t stirred, and he can feel his soft breaths moving the too-long hairs behind his ears. He wishes he could turn over, see the veins that delicately criss-cross over Andrew’s eyelids, but he’d wake him. Instead, he looks at the clock. 

3:02

Sleep. Sleep to most is open arms, warmth, an escape, a comfort, a promise, an assurance. Maybe most people don’t even think about sleep.

Sleep to Neil is an on/off lover, a fight, door slammed, not knowing if they’re coming home, empty boxes, unsteady plans, rocky ground, no harness, hands off the handle bars. There was nothing solid or sure about sleep. Not here. Sleep could be there for months, lying peacefully beside him, but then it could be gone for weeks. No questions. No answers. No promises. Just eye-bags bigger than Louis Vuitton’s window display.

Neil couldn’t tell what it was this time. For months now he had slept fine, dutifully getting his hours in between practises and school work. Now, in an unfamiliar place, without any practise, Neil is jittery and on edge. The French on the streets and in the corridor, the duffel bag and the gentle smell of cigarette smoke all remind him a bit too much of his mother. Peeling her body off of the - the fire -

“You know when you said you weren’t going to talk to Bee?”

Neil starts, lurching away from Andrew. Thankfully the hotel bed was big enough for him to sprawl or he would have ended up on the floor (which has happened before). Beside him, Andrew remains as still as the grave, eyes still shut, but his hands were curved in a way he only did when awake. Neil sometimes would wake up beside a sleeping Andrew and watch his hands - the muscles relaxed in sleep, showing off the lines of flesh and tendon, the thick knuckles, the wide but beautiful fingers that could grip a racquet and take him apart piece by piece -

“Neil.”

“Sorry.” Neil pauses for a second, looking at Andrew, before he remembers he had been asked a question. “Oh. Yeah.”

“That was a stupid idea.”

Neil hadn’t imagined that this would be how Andrew confronted Neil’s night issues. “I don’t need to talk to Bee.”

“Bee deals with problems. Is this not a problem?” Andrew opens his eyes, staring right at him in that simple, bored way. 

“It’s not a problem I need to see Bee about.”

“You wouldn’t have to see Bee. We have phones for a reason.”

“Do you talk to Bee?”

Andrew says nothing. Neil knows he knows Neil knows he talks to Bee.

“I don’t need to talk to her.” Neil kicks at the duvet, his skin still balmy. “It’s not my kind of thing.”

“What, getting help from others?” Andrew’s eyes narrow. “Nobody would ever have guessed that that isn’t your kind of thing.”

“Andrew, I’m fi-”

“Don’t give me that. You need to sleep.”

Neil’s heart, now slowing, twitches in his chest. After all of the nothings and the I hate you‘s, it is sometimes in the quietest and least sexual moments that Neil is most sure that they are something. Neil allows himself to take in Andrew’s bored impression as if he could physically see the concern in it. He also takes in the jaw, the tendons of the neck, the profile of his straight nose, the slight curve of his upper lip, the glow of his cheekbone in the light of the clock. 3:14.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

Neil lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I will stop looking at you ‘like that’ when you stop liking me.”

“I hate you.”

“I don’t think you do.”

“That wouldn’t be the first time you were fatally wrong.”

“Fatally? What are you going to do, hit me over the head with the alarm clock?”

“You are a fool for thinking I’d need help to kill you.”

Neil nearly smiles at that. “You could strangle me with the wires.”

“I could throw you off of the fucking balcony.”

“You’re bringing the other innocent residents of the hotel into this?”

“The world deserves to know how much I hate you.”

“Tu m’aimes.” Neil smiles through the words.

“Shut the fuck up.” Andrew surges in for a kiss, but pauses.

Neil nods, leaning in to cross the last bit of distance. 

Andrew’s lips on his are dry. Neil doesn’t want to place his body near Andrew’s for fear of the sweat on his skin, but Andrew cups the back of his neck, moves his body closer to Neil’s, and rests his other hand on Neil’s bare chest. The hand on his chest is firm against his beating heart, cold with Andrew’s shitty circulation. It says _I don’t care that you’re sweaty_ and it says _nothing you do could shock me_. Neil kisses him harder.

Neil lifts his hands and, slowly enough for Andrew to stop him, sinks them into Andrew’s hair. They find themselves at the back of his head, curling around the hair Andrew had flattened against the pillow when talking to Neil, as Andrew licks into his mouth, hot and sure. Neil opens wider for Andrew, letting him kiss with the passion his face never showed. The hand on his chest flexes and tightens but never makes a fist, the thumb rubbing over the raised ridge of a scar. Neil runs his teeth over the bottom of Andrew’s lip, sinking them down into the hint of a bite, and Andrew hisses, deepening the kiss with his hand firm on Neil’s neck.

The stress and panic of earlier melts from Neil into the kiss. Neil wonders if anyone could feel unsure or unsafe in the hands of Andrew. With his confident hands and quick tongue, Andrew can take Neil apart and leave him gasping. In a moment where they part for breath, Neil takes the time to kiss along the jaw he was gazing at earlier. He kisses along from just under his chin to the sharp line cutting above his jugular - Neil’s lips tingle to latch onto the area where his pulse thrums so delicately - up to the sharp corner and to that soft spot just beneath his ears. When Neil’s tongue reaches the shell of Andrew’s ear, Andrew’s hand tenses and slips to Neil’s hipbones. Neil sinks lower to finally taste the expanse of Andrew’s neck, and he is rewarded with a sharp intake of breath.

“You and your fucking…” Andrew gasps again, trailing off.

Not needing the finished sentence, Neil replies, “You want me to stop?”

Andrew unwraps his hand from Neil’s neck to hold his chin, his thumb pressing into Neil’s swollen lower lip. Neil can feel his heartbeat in it. “Don’t leave a mark,” Andrew warns.

Neil ducks down again, worshipping Andrew’s neck with lips and teeth and tongue but leaving his skin unmarred - well, apart from the two tiny dots in one area of Andrew’s neck, but they’d fade quickly.

Neil could tell when Andrew had had enough. After Andrew’s gasps become tiny muffled noises in the back of his throat, low and choked back, he finds himself pressed into the bed on his back, Andrew’s hands holding his shoulders. For a moment, Neil thinks of being pressed back into the seat, of the burns on his - but then Andrew’s hands move, almost psychic, to his hips. Andrew wastes no time removing Neil’s pants, egged on by Neil’s breathy encouragement of “Yes, yes, yes.” Andrew sank his teeth into the sensitive skin just above Neil’s nipple in warning, but Neil’s back only arches to meet the sensation.

Andrew pulls back like the patron saint of restraint, setting his eyes on the task of removing Neil’s trousers properly. Neil hurries to lift himself out of them, letting Andrew slide them off the rest of his legs and hurl them into the corner of the room somewhere. Neil’s boxers follow - Neil sighs as his erection is released from its confines. Neil is thankful that the room is dark so Andrew couldn’t see the wet stain on the front of his boxers, but then Andrew’s hand is around him, spreading the precum at the tip of his cock along his length, and Neil is keening.

“Andrew,” Neil whines, fisting his hands in the duvet.

“Look at me,” Andrew replies, using his free hand to tilt Neil’s head up. Even now, his expression is one of boredom, but his eyes are almost all pupil, the light from the alarm clock casting the shadow of his eyelashes across them. The muscle in his jaw shifts as he clenches it, and Neil wants once again to sink his teeth there.

When Andrew twists his hand just right around the head of Neil’s cock, he breaks. “A-Andrew, where can I -”

“My hair and my back only.” Andrew twists his hand once again, tightening just enough around the oh-so-sensitive head. “Not my chest.”

Neil nods frantically. His hands leave the duvet and devote themselves to Andrew - one sinks back into his tousled hair, and the other curls against his back, nails digging in for support. Andrew breathes heavily at the sensation of the nails and speeds up his hand. 

Neil’s stomach tightens as he gets close, and the whimpers and gasps of “Andrew,” and “Oh, God,” and “Fuck,” have now become moans, catching at the edges of his throat and dragging from low to high. Maybe for just one second Andrew’s eyebrows had raised, lashes fluttering, teeth worrying his lower lip… Neil repeats the noises, hoping to coax the same delicious response from Andrew again.

Instead, he finds himself with Andrew’s fingers in his mouth. “We have neighbours,” hisses Andrew, “so behave.”

Neil can’t help but buck into Andrew’s hand as he nods. Andrew’s thick fingers fill his mouth with just two of them, and Neil devotes time to learning them with his tongue. He ducks his head over them, wetting them, and wraps his tongue around them. When his tongue slips between to lick gently at the web of Andrew’s fingers, Andrew gasps and meets his eyes once more. Imagining that the fingers were Andrew’s cock, Neil bobs his head once more, not breaking eye contact, and swirls his tongue. The thought of doing this on Andrew’s cock has Neil’s hips twitching upwards into the unrelenting grip of Andrew’s other hand. Neil feels saliva dripping down his mouth as he moans. Andrew digs the pads of his fingers down into Neil’s tongue, fucking his mouth. Every gesture is a promise.

Eyelashes fluttering and core tightening, Neil opens his mouth wide to mutter, “An’rew, I-”

Andrew removes the fingers but keeps up the fast pace on Neil’s cock.

“Andrew, Andrew, I’m close,” Neil whines, back arching up off of the mattress. “But I want -”

“What do you want?” asked Andrew, voice steady.

The calm of Andrew soothes Neil’s hot edges. “I want - I want you with me. Yes or no?”

Andrew hesitates, his hand stilling on Neil’s cock. Neil can see the shift of his jaw as he bites at the inside of his mouth, thinking. Neil waits patiently, willing to ignore the throb of his aching cock if it meant having Andrew coming with him.

Finally, Andrew spoke. “Yes. But I want the light on.”

Neil moves faster than lighting, rolling up and across the bed to switch the bedside lamp on. 3:47. He faintly remembers Andrew telling him that he needed sleep, but if it was sleep versus Andrew, the latter would win any day.

When he comes back, Andrew is busy with pulling his cock from his sweatpants. It stands thick, red and curved gently to the right above his waistband, nestled in a neat patch of blond curls. Neil’s mouth waters, imagining how it’d feel on his tongue, the taste of him, the weight of his hard cock on his tongue, fucking into his mouth like Andrew’s fingers were, filling him up -

Andrew looks away from Neil, pumping his cock a couple of times. It’s only in the sideways glances and shaking hands that Neil can even tell that Andrew is nervous - when they are moving together, his movements are confident and sure even when he himself isn’t.

“Yes or no?” Neil asks.

“Yes,” Andrew replies, “but only touch my hair and don’t touch my cock.”

Neil nods. He is ashamed at himself for feeling mildly disappointed - he has had Andrew in his hand before, pumped him to completion, but maybe it’s different when it involves Neil’s cock also. Neil swallows his emotions as Andrew shuffles closer.

Neil can’t help but release a shaking breath when Andrew presses their cocks together. They’ve ground together many times previously. Neil could recall numerous occasions where Andrew would rock his hips into Neil’s, bumping their hipbones together, even making Neil come in his pants a few times. However, never have they been flush together, skin on skin. Neil could feel the heat of Andrew’s cock against his - the knowledge that this is Andrew’s cock against his, Andrew’s hand reaching to hold them both, has him gasping and shaking. His head lolls, not knowing where to rest. With a shaking hand, Andrew guides Neil’s head to his shoulder.

“Stay,” Andrew whispers.

Neil doesn’t say anything; he reaches up to replace his hands in Andrew’s hair.

He nearly _dies_ when Andrew first moves.

With his cock already so sensitive from nearly coming, the feeling of Andrew stroking himself and Neil together is… beyond anything. Andrew’s thick-knuckled hand, veined and masculine, holds both of their cocks in a strong grip as he pumps.

“G-God,” Neil groans. Andrew grunts in agreement, twisting his hand.

Neil turns his head to ever-so-slowly place his mouth onto Andrew’s neck. When Andrew tilts his head to give Neil access, Neil allows himself to fully explore the area once more. Neil wastes no time placing suction onto the places he knows Andrew likes - hell, they’re even signposted by two gradually-fading pinpricks. 

Before long, Neil could hear the telltale signs of Andrew growing close: his breaths became low groans that rumble in his chest and make Neil’s cock twitch, his hands begin to move faster, pink splotches of colour appear in the middle of his chest and at the tops of his ears. Neil keens, close himself, cock aching at the sight of Andrew.

“Andrew,” Neil whimpers, “fuck - so beautiful.”

“S-shut up,” Andrew pants.

“It’s so good, it’s so good, it’s so good, ah!” Neil thrusts up into the hot, tight hold of Andrew’s hand. “F-fuck, I’m gonna come.”

Andrew twists his hand just so, thumb rubbing over the slit of Neil’s cock, and the cord inside Neil snaps. With a broken moan, too-high too-loud too-everything, Neil spills onto Andrew’s cock. The hand in Andrew’s hair tightens to what must have been a painful level, but Neil needs something to hold him on his world. Like always, Andrew remains the constant stability for him, keeping him tethered.

Just as Neil’s pleasure begins to dissolve into over-sensitivity, Andrew bucks his lips helplessly and spills onto them both. While Andrew does make some low noises during sex, when he comes he is silent, his eyes squeezed shut almost like he is in pain. Neil finds this oddly beautiful - he can’t tell if it’s a sex thing or just a him thing to find Andrew’s orgasm so breath-taking.

Neil collapses onto the bed in a heap of hot, sweaty limb, and for all the right reasons. Meanwhile, Andrew reaches to his bedside tables for tissues and begins to clean himself and Neil.

“We’ll need a shower,” he says. He looks at and Neil and seems to stop expecting an answer. Neil wonders if he looks as destroyed as he feels. With a sigh, Andrew lowers himself back into bed with a muttered, “I still think you should call Bee.”

Neil smiles to himself as his eyes droop heavily. 4:09. Maybe Neil will see another 3am tomorrow night, but for now, sleep is here, walking through the door with its coat and its bag and its arms open.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @hauntgal !!  
> please tell me your thoughts by leaving a comment, i haven't written smut in soooo long. i haven't really WRITTEN in so long. just... lmk mkay.. mkay thank u  
> [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A05049H8)


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